It's Worthless
by looks so nasty in those khakis
Summary: The apocalypse is under way and all Sam knows is the desperate struggle to keep himself upright while burdened. And it's not just the beginning of the apocalypse on his shoulders either. One-Shot; extends on the end of 5x16. "Dark Side of the Moon".
_Extending on the end of 5x16, "Dark Side of the Moon", this goes through what Sam might've been thinking and what he_ could _have done afterwards._

 _Disclaimer: All rights reserved for the creators of SPN. Sadly, that means nothing is mine._

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"You son of a bitch.."

Five words Sam thought he would never hear uttered from Castiel's mouth. And especially towards his father. Since Sam knew him, Cas had never spoken a word against the creator of angels, going as far as searching for this missing figure like the loyal son he was.

"..I believed in," came the end.

Sam couldn't entirely relate to Cas, but he knew what it was like to have a disappointing father. He was even more so in a situation Dean had been in many years ago. Trying so hard to be loyal yet having all those doubts.

His solemn mood weighed heavily in the air, right up with the Winchesters' feelings.

Cas suddenly turned and took something from the pocket of his trenchcoat.

"I don't need this anymore," he said, tossing the object at Dean. The hunter grabbed it, out of instinct, but made no other movements and gave no words in return. Dean only stood there with a blank face, as if he'd been slapped yet knew all along that was where things would lead.

"It's worthless," finished Cas, turning his back to them.

"Cas, wait!"

Sam spoke up, voicing the words he had thought Dean would say. But much to his disappointment, there was a rustle of wings and their feathery friend was there no longer. Sam heaved a sigh, pursing his lips in disappointment. Between Dean's silence and Cas' crushed hopes, the youngest felt as if all responsibility was resting on him, that he had to carry these two to the finish line, in addition to putting an end to what he – himself – started.

And at the moment it seemed like an impossible task.

Was this how Dean felt all those years when they were just kids? Always looking after him, getting him out of trouble, keeping him safe. Was this what it felt like? Because if that was _it_ , maybe Sam _could_ gain a little more understanding of his very own brother, making it one less secret between them.

Sam walked a few paces and tossed the bag in his hand onto the bed, his frustration whipping it harder than he meant to.

All the while, his brother fingered the amulet and his eyes remained downcast, almost as if the amulet was his lifeline and Dean was tempted to end it.

"We'll figure it out," stated the younger hunter, his tone laced with frustration however much he tried to think along better lines. "We can still stop all this, Dean."

"How?"

It was just one word, but somehow it took Sam off guard. He glanced away.

"I don't know. But we'll find it." Sam tried to sound optimistic for Dean's sake, for his brother's sake, but it didn't sound very hopeful. "You and me. We'll find it."

But Dean said nothing. That was almost worse. His big brother, who usually had something to return with, consumed by the heaviness of silence. Sam could sense his shields go up, watching him turn his back to close up the already-stuffed duffel and take the straps in one hand.

It was then Sam expected Dean to say _something_ , even if it wasn't anything Sam wanted to hear, but the hunter remained – still – unnervingly quiet. He brushed by Sam and headed for the door.

By now, Sam was desperate. He didn't want to be ignored by _two_ others much less than one angel. _Maybe he should jump on the bandwagon of stoic, mute hunters too and we could just be speechless together,_ thought Sam sardonically, holding back another hopeless sigh. He was one step closer to doing just the same anyway, why not just let fate run its course.

Dean was paused by the door, his hand extended towards the trash bin; the one with the amulet – a gift Sam had given so long ago. A sense of foreboding passed through him a second before it happened and he silently wished it would never occur.

Yet, all he could do was watch in fearful apprehension as the fingers uncurled and the amulet dropped. Maybe it was Sam's imagination, but he could've sworn he saw hesitation – one last struggle to cling onto the jewelry – before it left his hands.

Sam faced away.

The hesitation was just his mind, _just his mind,_ he thought over and over again. He didn't want to believe it and get his hopes up only for them to be dashed all over again.

A hollow clunk signified it hit the bottom and Sam bit back his anger; his irritation.

And Dean left, his footsteps receding in the background.

...and it was just a lonely hunter with a boat-load of emotions, riding out the stormy seas his brother set out before him.

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Sam returned to his packing, but it was clear his mind wasn't into it. He ended up just throwing everything in a wild mess before zipping it all up and slinging it over one shoulder. He was about to hasten after his brother when something stopped him – his feet pausing where Dean's had done a minute previous – and his gaze drifted south, ending on the bin.

A gold pendant and a tangled, black cord.

He bit his lip. A glance sent over towards the Impala just outside, Sam made up his mind and slipped the bag onto the floor, crouching down to fish the amulet out. He couldn't come up with any good reason why he did it, but the younger brother slipped the piece of jewelry into his jacket pocket.

Dean might be done with it, done with everything, but that didn't mean Sam was ready to give up as well. He'd take his chances and keep on fighting until the end, no matter how. That _had_ been the Winchester Way.

And it was only _his_ way now.

One start of a motor and a few slams of doors later, the Impala pulled out from the motel and hit the road.

Just as before.

Just as always.

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